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PORTRAIT OF RATPH FAUNHAM. 
 

 liograpljiral Slulrl^ 
 
 LIFE OF MLPH FAMHAM, 
 
 ACTON, MAINE; 
 
 NOW IN THE ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTH YEAR OF HIS AGE, 
 AND THE SOLE SURVIVOR OF THE GLORIOUS BATTLE 
 
 BUNKER HILL 
 
 BY C. W. CLARENCE. 
 
 Mr. FABNHASf'S Yearly Pension, upon which he is dependent for support, 
 is only $61.66, and these Books are Sold for his BENEFIT. 
 
 BOSTON, SEPTEMBER 20, 1860. 
 

 Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1860, 
 
 BY RALPH FABNHAM, 
 
 In the Clerk's OfBce of the District Court of the United States, for the District 
 of Massachusetts. 
 
 
 

 
 INVITATION 
 
 From His Excellency N. P. Banks, Governor of Massachusetts ; 
 His Honor F. W. Lincoln, Esq. , Mayor of Boston ; Hon. Edward 
 Everett, and many others of the most distinguished citizens of 
 Boston, to 
 
 Mr. RALPH FAENHAM, 
 
 The SOLE SURVIVOR of the Battle of Bunker Hill, to visit that city : 
 The following correspondence, relative to the proposed visit of 
 the venerable Ralph Farnham to the city of Boston, and the scene 
 of his earliest struggles during the Revolutionary War, will be read 
 with interest. The invitation sent by His Excellency Governor 
 Banks was, as will be seen, signed by a great number of the lead- 
 ing citizens of Boston — by clergymen, literary men, and others ; and 
 Mr. Stevens generously placed comfortable apartments, in the 
 Revere House, at the old gentleman's disposal. 
 
 Mr. Ralph Farnham, Acton, Me. : 
 
 We, being residents of the city of Boston, the scene of our 
 earliest Revolutionary struggles, naturally feel a pride in every- 
 thing that reminds us of the glorious days when our forefathers 
 did battle for freedom. That generation has well-nigh passed 
 away — you, in your 105th year, are one of the few cormecting 
 links which unites the present generation with that upon which 
 the Independence of our country dawned, and the sole survivor 
 of that gallant band who took part in the battle of Bunker Hill. 
 We cordially invite you to visit Boston. We desire to see you — 
 to shake hands witli you, and to pay you that respect due alike to 
 your patriarchal age, and to the part you took in the struggle 
 which secured our National Independence. 
 
 SIGNED BY 
 
 Hon. Nath'l p. Banks, Gov. 
 Richard Frothixgham, Jr. , Esq. 
 Hon. J. A. Andrew. 
 Wm. Appleton, Esq. 
 Hon. Samuel H. Wallet. 
 Hon. .John P. Bigelow. 
 Nath'l B. Shurtleff, M. D. 
 Rev. N. Adajls, D. D. 
 Charles G. Greene, Esq. 
 Rev. G. W. Blagden, D. D. 
 Walter Chaning, M. D. 
 Rev. Ezra S. Gannett, M. D. 
 JohnD. Philbrick, Esq. 
 Hon. B. F. Hallett. 
 Hon. G. S. Hillard. 
 Geo. p. Sanger, Esq. 
 OsMYN Brewster, Esq. 
 Geo. S. Hale, Ei?q. 
 S. E. Sewall, Esq. 
 Rev. Charles Folsom, D. D. 
 Joel Bigelow, M. D. 
 Hon. Henry J. Gardner. 
 
 F. W. Lincoln, Mayor. 
 
 Hon. Edward Everett. 
 
 Hon. Charles Sumner. 
 
 Peleg W. Chandler, Esq. 
 
 W. D. TiCKNOR, Esq. 
 
 Hon. Lemuel Shaw, Chief Justice. 
 
 Amos A. Lawrence, Esq. 
 
 J. A. Lowell, Esq. 
 
 George Hatwood, M. D. 
 
 Hon. Charles Hale. 
 
 J. Wingate Thornton, Esq. 
 
 C. B. Goodrich, Esq. 
 
 Uriel Crocker, Esq. 
 
 Chas. D. Gould, Esq. 
 
 Wm. Crosby, Esq. 
 
 Jamrs MuNROE, Esq. 
 
 J. Mason Warren, M. D. 
 
 Rev. C. A. Bartol. 
 
 Rev. A. A. Miner. 
 
 Rev. Baron Stow, D. D. 
 
 S. SwBFT, Esq. 
 
 Rev. S. K. Lothrop, D. D. 
 
Acton (Mb.), Sept. 21, 1860. 
 J/r. iV". P. Banks, Governor ; Mr. F. W. Lincoln, Mayor ; Mr. Edward 
 Everett, and others : 
 
 I have received your invitation to visit Boston. I thank you 
 lor the honor you do me. When I 'listed in the Americiin army, 
 at 18 years of age, and engaged in the battle of Bunker Hill, I did 
 not suppose I should live to be 104 years of age, and be asked by 
 .so many distinguished men to visit Boston. I do not think I de- 
 serve any special credit for the part I took in the Revolution. I 
 only felt and acted as others. 
 
 1 remember distinctly the time when I 'listed, in May, 1775, and 
 soon after left home for Cambridge. Just out of the village of 
 Andover, we came to the house of Colonel Abbott, who came out 
 in his slippers, and said : " Well done, my lads !" and sent us out 
 cider and grog in pails. We then marched and got to Cambridge 
 the day before the battle of Bunker Hill. 0, that was a dreadful 
 battle ! It was the first time I had ever took part in fighting. It 
 was dreadful to take those eight guns from the British and turn 
 them upon them. After that I served through three campaigns — 
 one in 1775, and two in 1777. 
 
 I receive every year my pension of $61.66, though I have to pay 
 $4 every year to a lawyer in Portland to get it for me. 
 
 I have many things to comfort me as I journey along through 
 life ; innumerable are the mercies I am surrounded with. As to 
 temporal matters — kind, loving children, faithful friends. As to 
 spiritual — the Holy Scriptures, and the various institutions of 
 religion — all of which are designed for our improvement here, and 
 to prepare us to dwell in that better world above. 
 
 If a kind Providence spare my life and health, you may expect 
 to see me in Boston between the first and eighth of October. I 
 cannot now name the day. Your friend, 
 
 EALPH FAENHAM. 
 
 Revere House, Boston, Sept. 27, 1860. 
 
 7b Ralph Farnham, Esq.: — Having learned that His Excellency the Gover- 
 nor, His Honor the Mayor, and several others among our leading citizens, have 
 invited you to visit this city, I herewith offer you such accommodations (free of 
 e-xpense) at the Revere House, as you and your family may require. In so 
 doing, I wish to offer my tribute of respect to the last survivor of Bunker Hill, 
 and to one who has attained to your great age. 
 
 Yours truly, PARAN STEVENS. 
 
 Acton, Maine, Sept. 21, 1860. 
 lb Mr. Par an Stevens: — I feel much honored by your kind request that I 
 should make the Revere House my home during my short stay in Boston, and I 
 thankfully accept your generous offer. 
 
 Your friend, RALPH FARNHAM. 
 
BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 Ralph Parnham, the subject of the following me- 
 moir, was born at Lebanon, New Hampshire, on the 
 7th of July, 1156. His father was a farmer, and, up 
 to the completion of his eighteenth year, Ralph worked 
 on the farm. The family — as the name will indicate — 
 originally came from England ; though the period of 
 their emigration, or even the name of the ancestor who 
 first made his home on these transatlantic shores, is un- 
 known. It is probable, therefore, that the Farnhams — 
 if they did not arrive with the first band of pilgrims, 
 on board the Mayflower — were, at all events, amongst 
 the earliest settlers in this Northern section of the 
 Union. When the subject of our brief history had attain- 
 ed to his eighteenth year, the seeds of discord between 
 the mother country and the North American Colonies, 
 which had been first sown many years before, had 
 burst forth into that open disaffection which ripened 
 into a desire for disunion, and resulted eventually in 
 our National Independence. In his seclusion in Leba- 
 non, young Ralph Farnham and his youthful com- 
 panions soon heard of the growing disaffection of their 
 fellow-colonists in the cities of the sea coast, and par- 
 ticularly in Boston — which was then, as now — the 
 capital of New England. How speedily the patriot- 
 ism of the country people responded to the call of the 
 inhabitants of the seaport towns is matter of history ; 
 and the subject of our memoir was among the earliest 
 of those gallant youths, who — scarcely past the age 
 of boyhood — quitted the plow and the sickle for the 
 
8 
 
 musket and sword, and, regardless of hardship and 
 fearless of peril, left their peaceful homes, and their 
 families and friends, and all that was dear to them, 
 for the discomforts and dangers of the battle field — 
 resolving to return as victors, or return no more. 
 
 Not the youthful alone, but the middle-aged, anc 
 even the far advanced in years — all who could shoulder 
 a musket or wield a sword — joined the ranks of the 
 "rebels" — as the patriots who resented the tyrannical 
 imposts of the Mother Country were then termed by 
 the Government party ; and, perhaps, there was not 
 a single household throughout New England that did 
 not send forth one — and many sent forth all able 
 to bear arms, to take part in the anticipated struggle 
 against a foe which had hitherto been regarded in the 
 light of a kindred people, and which was possessed of 
 power and resources so vast, in comparison to them- 
 selves, that, to a less courageous and less determined 
 race, the very attempt to ojDpose them would have ap- 
 peared ridiculous; any successful opposition — hopeless. 
 
 There were many Spartan mothers, and sisters, and 
 wives, amongst the women of the colonies, who saw 
 their sons, and brothers, and husbands, go forth, with 
 pride, and bade them God speed ! But it would be 
 contrary to nature to suppose that even amongst the 
 most heroic of these mothers, and sisters, and wives, 
 and female friends, there were any who saw those 
 whom they loved depart on an expedition of such im- 
 minent peril, without a secret pang, and a dread lest 
 they should never witness their return ; and it is not 
 to be wondered at that there were many who, when 
 the moment of parting arrived, shrunk from the 
 thought, and, giving way for the moment to the natu- 
 
ral feelings of the sex, begged them to stay, or saw 
 them go with bitter tears. It was thus with the 
 mother of Ralph Farnham. 
 
 His friends had left the fields and the farms to take 
 care of themselves, and buckling on the old rusty 
 militia swords of their fathers and grandfathers, and 
 seizing musket or fowling piece — anything and every- 
 thing with which they hoped to be able to annoy the com- 
 mon enemy which had arisen from amongst their own 
 kindred — the sons and grandsons of the same ances- 
 tors from whom they (the Colonists) were descended — 
 anything and everything which would enable them to 
 strike a blow for that independence of thought, speech, 
 and action which a haughty aristocracy — at home — as, 
 until then, they had fondly designated the land of 
 their forefathers' birth — though to them it was a 
 strange and far-distant country — had gone forth into 
 the strife, followed by the prayers and blessings of 
 those they had left behind, and it was not to be ex- 
 pected that Ralph — a fine, strong, tall, healthy, spir- 
 ited youth of eighteen — .could witness their departure, 
 and remain contentedly at home, in inglorious ease and 
 ignoble safety, while others of his own age had volunta- 
 rily gone forth to meet the threatened danger! He says 
 he could not have borne the shame and disgrace ; he 
 would have blushed to look the women-folk, amongst 
 whom he remained, in the face ; and when his young 
 companions returned — flushed with the victory their 
 patriotic feelings led them to anticipate — as the sure 
 result of a struggle in which freemen would contend 
 for the security and happiness of all they prized most 
 dearly on earth, against hireling foes and mercenary 
 strangers, doing battle for tyranny — he would have 
 1* 
 
10 
 
 shrunk from meeting them, and have felt himself no 
 longer worthy of his manhood. But his mother 
 trembled at the thought. It was not that she was de- 
 void of the patriotism which actuated women as well 
 as men in those eventful days, but she could not bear 
 that he — the last of her children — the only one left 
 upon whom she could lean for support, and upon whom 
 she could lavish her mother's aflfection — should quit 
 her side, perhaps to return no more. He dared not 
 tell her of the stirring aspirations which filled his 
 soul, and urged him to go forth and share the perils 
 of his comrades ; but one day, when she was absent, 
 he took down, from the brackets on which it was sus- 
 pended, his father's old gun, and set to work — secretly 
 — to burnish it up and make it presentable. He had 
 had an interview, on the previous day, with the Revo- 
 lutionary recruiting agent, but she (his mother) knew 
 nothing of it. She passed him while he was so busily 
 occupied that he had not seen her approach. She 
 noticed his employment, and the anxious fears of a 
 mother at once took alarm. " Ralph," she said, " my 
 son, surely you have not enlisted ?" 
 
 " Not yet, mother," replied the youth, with a slight 
 blush of shame at the deception he was contemplating. 
 But the mother's fears were not so easily quieted. 
 Perhaps she had noticed some hesitation in his tone of 
 voice ; perhaps she knew too well the thoughts which 
 were agitating his mind. He wished her to think that 
 he was merely cleaning the gun to go out on a shoot- 
 ing excursion ; but she could not rest satisfied. She 
 said nothing further to him, but hurried off to a neigh- 
 bor — whose son, a favorite companion of Ralph's, had 
 enlisted on the previous day — determined to learn 
 
11 
 
 whether or not her suspicions were correct. Ralph 
 was watching her sharply. He guessed the object of 
 her visit, and followed her to the neighbor's house, 
 and just as he got to the door she came forth crying 
 bitterly, and threw her arms round the young man's 
 neck, unable to utter a word. " Ah !" said the vener- 
 able old man, when relating to us this aifecting inci- 
 dent — " Ah, I was sorry then ; but it was too late ; 
 besides, how could I have remained at home ?" 
 
 Having comforted the poor old lady as best he was 
 able, and at length having wrung from her a reluctant 
 consent, he, with several of the young men of the vil- 
 lage, set forth on their march to Cambridge, where 
 General Washington had taken up his headquarters 
 but a short time before, on assuming the chief com- 
 mand of the Revolutionary army. The road was muddy, 
 and sloppy, and the march tedious and wearisome, but 
 the gallant youths were encouraged by the cheers of 
 the inhabitants of the farm-houses, and the villages 
 they passed through on their route, and by the smiles 
 of the women and the blessings of the aged men ; be- 
 sides, young men, with a great and glorious object in 
 view, were not to be disheartened by a fatiguing 
 march. They upheld each other's spirits by singing 
 the patriotic ballads which had come in vogue, and by 
 encouraging that sanguine hope, natural to youth, of 
 individual glory, and of ultimate complete success. 
 
 They frequently enjoyed the hospitality of the in- 
 habitants of the country through which their march 
 led them ; there was no lack of material aid, in the 
 form of the best the people had to bestow, as well 
 as in the encouragement of cheering words . As they 
 passed through Andover, one Colonel Abbott, an el- 
 
12 
 
 derly gentleman, who resided in a pretty villa on the 
 outskirts of the village, came out in his dressing- 
 gown and slippers, and bade them " God speed 1" 
 " God bless you, my brave lads !" he cried : " Do your 
 duty like men," and he invited the oflBcers into his 
 dwelling, and desiring the recruits to rest themselves 
 in his barns, or to walk about his grounds, he sent 
 them abundant refreshment, in the shape of cider and 
 grog — in pails. 
 
 "Did he send you anything to eat ?" we inquired of 
 the old gentleman, when he was relating this incident, 
 with an evidently vivid recollection of the welcome 
 with which the cider and grog were received. 
 
 " No," he replied ; " we didn't want anything to 
 eat. It was not the time for that ; but the sun had 
 burst forth, and the mud had changed to dust, and we 
 were hot, and tired, and thirsty. No cider ever tasted 
 so good as that." 
 
 The youthful recruits were very soon taught that 
 the new duties upon which they had entered, and for 
 which they had left behind them the comforts and in- 
 dulgences of their quiet country homes, were those of 
 hardship and danger — allowing no time for inglorious 
 ease — scarcely allowing even the natural rest they 
 needed, after their long and weary march. They 
 reached the encampment at Cambridge only the day 
 before the battle of Bunker Hill was fought. The 
 camp was all bustle and apparent confusion, for they 
 expected an attack from the British, but were at a loss 
 to conjecture from what point the attack would be made, 
 and were even ignorant of the strength of the ene- 
 my. The officers, from Washington downwards, were 
 evidently anxious and ill at ease, for though they 
 
13 
 
 knew the courage of the men under their command, 
 and saw that they were full of generous enthusiasm, 
 they were aware, also, that they would have to con- 
 tend against well-drilled and well-disciplined troops, 
 amply provided with all the materials of warfare — 
 well clothed, well fed, and accustomed to victory ; 
 and, perhaps, far superior to them in numbers. 
 
 And against these troops what had they to oppose ? 
 Strong, stout, brave men, certainly : men who had 
 come forth from their homes to do battle for right, for 
 truth, and for freedom, and who would do their best, 
 and fall to a man, ere they would yield ; but many — 
 nay, the majority of them — were undisciplined men, 
 unaccustomed to move and act in concert, but poorly 
 provided with arms and accoutrements, or even with 
 necessary clothing, for a long campaign ; many of 
 them were mere lads, and but few had ever seen gun- 
 powder fired in anger I If they were overwhelmed at 
 the outset — nay, even if they were unsuccessful — it 
 was doubtful whether they could even obtain provis- 
 ions to keep them from starving ! Their trust was in 
 God, and in the justice of their cause — in him and this 
 alone. " Washington," said the old gentleman, " rode 
 round the camp, and reviewed the men. There were all 
 sorts — old men, middle-aged men, and boys. Some in 
 uniform, some without ; some dressed like gentlemen, 
 some just as they had come from the farm, with arms 
 of all sorts. We were cheered as we marched in ; but 
 they had no time to do more than welcome us, and tell 
 us where we were to station ourselves. General 
 Washington rode up to us and spoke a few cheering 
 words — not many. He was wanted everywhere. Offi- 
 cers came riding up to him from all parts of the camp. 
 
14 
 
 and he was constantly giving orders. It was the first 
 time I had ever seen him. He seemed as if he was 
 trying to look cheerful and confident, but he could not 
 conceal his anxiety. After a while, we went to our 
 tents and rested for a few hours ; but we soon heard 
 the drums and trumpets calling upon all to turn out. 
 
 " No one knew what was the occasion of this sud- 
 den call, and as it was growing dark (we follow the old 
 gentleman's narrative, though, for the sake of perspi- 
 cuity, we shall put his conversational remarks into 
 a narrative form, except when some anecdote is 
 related), and we were ail in a state of confusion — 
 knowing little or nothing of military duty, beyond 
 what we had learned at our militia mustering at home. 
 However, we were arranged in marching order, under 
 the command, as we afterwards learnt, of General Pres- 
 cott. There were a good many — I don't know how 
 many (History says 1,000 men); and we were marched 
 a good distance, till we came to the creek or channel 
 which separates Charlestown from Boston. We 
 crossed this piece of water — I scarce know how ; 
 some in boats, and some on rafts, and I believe some 
 forded it, or swam over. We marched on till we 
 came to a pretty steep hill, and on this we planted a 
 flag, and the men were set to work to dig trenches 
 round it and make breastworks. 
 
 " It was hard work, for the night was dark and 
 cloudy, though very warm. A good many murmured, 
 and began to find that soldiering was hard and dirty 
 work, and that soldiers had something else to do be- 
 sides cleaning their muskets and popping away at 
 the enemy. We had seen no enemy, and a good many 
 of us — tired as we were — couldn't think what we were 
 
15 
 
 set to digging ditches for. But when daylight came 
 we were more cheerful — the officers encouraged us, 
 and worked themselves, some of them, and we had 
 quite a strong entrenchment, with a little river run- 
 ning at the foot of the hill. We had little time for 
 rest, for the sun had scarce risen, when they commen- 
 ced firing cannon from the ships in the harbor ; but the 
 shot didn't do much harm — very few reached us — 
 and relays of men, mostly recruits, kept on working. 
 
 " So things were till about noon, when they began to 
 send soldiers ashore from the ships, and we expected 
 an attack, but they halted and waited — I suppose for 
 reinforcements, finding us more numerous and stronger 
 than they supposed. Meanwhile they set Charlestown 
 village on fire, and the flames burnt furiously.* 
 
 " It was far on in the afternoon before any attack 
 was made. We wanted to fire at once ; but we were 
 ordered not to discharge a musket till they were 
 well within gunshot — perhaps fifty or sixty yards off, 
 and beginning to climb the hill. Then came the order 
 to fire, and we let 'em have it in one grand volley ; 
 some of our recruits carried rifles, and if they didn't 
 know much of soldiering, they knew how to use them, 
 and there came up a loud screech — louder than 
 the report of the firearms — and, when the smoke 
 cleared away a bit, we saw the enemy all in confu- 
 sion — some of them retreating ; but an officer, Gen. 
 Howe (I was told afterwards), rallied them, and they 
 charged again, but we had loaded fresh, and they 
 came up nearer still, when again we fired in a volley, 
 
 * It is doubtful whether Charlestown was set on fire by the British, or 
 whether it caught fire by accident. However, no attempt was made by the 
 enemy to extinguish the flames. — Ed. 
 
16 
 
 and they turned and fled, leaving the officers almost 
 alone, still standing firm. The enemy was fairly 
 beaten off, hadn't a fresh detachment come to their 
 relief, when they rallied for the third time; and, seeing 
 that our small force stood no chance if they had 
 brought us to close quarters, we were ordered to 
 retreat as quick as possible. They didn't follow us — 
 they were seemingly glad enough to get rid of us — 
 and except that some of the cannon-shot from the 
 ships, from which they had commenced to fire again at 
 shorter range, came pretty near, and I believe hit some 
 of our men, they didn't annoy us further. They claim- 
 ed the victory by driving us from our position, but I 
 guess they wouldn't have liked many such victories. 
 The enemy had trained soldiers, and our side mostly 
 raw recruits who had never been under fire before, 
 and yet their loss was almost twice as great as ours.* 
 
 " Ah !" said the old man, " it was a terrible affair. 
 It was frightful to think of, when all was over. The 
 killed and wounded lay in all directions and in every 
 attitude. It was the first time I had seen fighting, 
 and I felt sick ; but it gave us courage, for, recruits as 
 most of us were, we had stood our ground against 
 regular soldiers. 
 
 " We marched to the camp, and soon after com- 
 menced the blockade of Boston, where General Gage 
 was in command of the British, but we didn't do much 
 all fall and winter ; we were pretty much idle, wait- 
 ing for recruits, who came in slowly, until spring, 
 when Washington had about 20,000 men under his 
 command, and by this time we had been well trained 
 
 * The official account gives the British loss as 226 killed and 828 wounded, 
 while the American loss was 145 killed and 304 wounded. — Ed. 
 
n 
 
 and drilled, and had got to be pretty good soldiers, and 
 we who had been with the army all the winter used 
 to play tricks with the fresh recruits, and while they 
 were digging- trenches and such work, we used to 
 keep guard, and as soon as we saw the flash of the 
 enemy's guns, for they kept up a constant irregular 
 fire upon us, which didn't do much harm, we used to 
 drop down upon them in the trenches. They said they 
 did all the work, and dug ditches just for us to drop 
 into out of the way of the enemy's shots." 
 
 Soon after this Mr. Ralph Farnham marched with 
 the army under Washington to Long Island, where he 
 took part in nearly every engagement fought there — 
 most of them being favorable to the American levies — 
 and this continued advantage of raw recruits over 
 highly-disciplined soldiers, increased their courage and 
 their confidence in themselves, though, unless actively 
 employed, there were constant bickerings and quarrels 
 between the different levies. To prevent this, General 
 Washington endeavored to keep them constantly at 
 workjdigging trenches and erecting barricades. ' Often,' 
 said the old gentleman, "when there seemed no occa- 
 sion for it; they grumbled, and threatened, but never so 
 that the General could hear 'em. We all liked General 
 Washington, and all seemed to have confidence in him 
 from the first." 
 
 It would answer no purpose to follow Mr. Ralph 
 Farnham through his several campaigns, inasmuch as 
 the thrilling and stirring events of this period of our 
 country's history have been fully recorded by histo- 
 rians, novelists, poets, and writers of every descrip- 
 tion and of every of variety of talent. The experience 
 of a soldier serving through one or a dozen campaigns 
 
18 
 
 possesses a monotonous sameness, wherever may 
 have been the field of action. Every school-boy in 
 America knows how his forefathers, during that event- 
 ful period which, to use a hackneyed but ti'ite expres- 
 sion, " tried men's souls," suffered almost inconceiv- 
 able hardships, sometimes victorious, sometimes flying 
 before a superior force ; suffering from sickness, and 
 from the inclemency of weather ; often scantily clad, 
 and short of provisions and ammunition; sometimes, 
 apparently, so completely driven to bay, that escape 
 seemed hopeless, yet never despairing of final suc- 
 cess ; or if, sometimes, almost despairing, resolving 
 to perish to a man, sooner than give up the glorious 
 cause for the sake of which they had relinquished the 
 comforts and joys of home, and risked their fortunes 
 and their lives. Of course there were many grum- 
 blers, as there always will be among mankind, in 
 whatever cause engaged; but grumbling is no mark 
 of cowardice, or even of regret, and some of the 
 veriest grumblers were always among the foremost 
 at the call of duty. 
 
 Some general we have read of — we forget whom — 
 is said to have remarked, that he wouldn't give much 
 for soldiers who didn't grumble, for in such case 
 they were supine and spiritless, while a good grum- 
 bler could always be silenced by giving him employ- 
 ment. He cared not how much they complained, so 
 long as he didn't hear them. 
 
 There were also many cravens and deserters — such 
 will always be found among a large body of men, 
 however brave and honorable and determined they 
 may be in the aggregate ; but these were but black 
 sheep, whom it was well to be rid of : their disafifec- 
 
19 
 
 tion was a g'ain rather than a loss, since one of tliese 
 men, remaining in a company, is sufficient to damp 
 the spirits of, and discourage, all his companions. The 
 generals and leaders, and Washington especially, 
 whom all soon learnt to look up to, and to rely upon 
 in cases of emergency, had much to bear with, and 
 much anxiety to suffer ; but, on the whole, history has 
 no record of so just a cause, so nobly upheld, and 
 resulting in such complete success — nor of hardships 
 so nobly borne by men struggling for principle and 
 for the birthright of freedom under such terrible dis- 
 advantages — for so long a period. The undying fame 
 of Washington, the heroic leader of this host of patri- 
 ots, was gloriously earned ; and, with rare exceptions, 
 officers — and men alike — ^bequeathed to history a bril- 
 liant page, far outshining all that the world had 
 previously seen, and taught a lesson of courage, forti- 
 tude and patriotism to future generations, which has 
 ennobled the human race ; which extorted praise 
 and respect even from the enemy, and which will be 
 read with a glow of pride as long as human sympathy 
 responds to deeds of heroism. 
 
 In all these hardships and struggles Ealph Farnham 
 — the hero of our sketch — bore his share through the 
 campaigns of 1*IT5 to 117t. He entered Boston with 
 the forces under General Putnam, after the evacuation 
 of the city by General Gage. Putnam and Washing- 
 ton both expected to find the place seriously injured ; 
 but in this respect they were happily disappointed. 
 The city was strongly fortified, but not a house was 
 damaged ; and, to Putnam's surprise and delight, a 
 large quantity of ammunition, several cannon, and a 
 variety of other stores, had been left behind by the 
 
20 
 
 British, which, of course, fell a prize to the Revolution- 
 ary army. Ralph Farnham, then a mere youth, served, 
 as we have stated, through the desperate campaign on 
 Long Island, and witnessed, from Brooklyn Heights, 
 the sad defeat of the Americans, commanded by Lord 
 Stirling, by the forces under General Lord Howe. 
 Mr. Farnham was, at this period, directly under the 
 command of Washington, and he stood by the Father 
 of his country, and was an eye-witness of the bitter 
 anguish of the latter, as he saw the total overthrow 
 of a body of troops, to whom, though so near, be was 
 unable to afford the slightest aid. 
 
 He (Ralph Farnham) was also with the forces under 
 Washington throughout the disastrous pursuit by the 
 British, through New Jersey * the level soil affording 
 the Americans no defensible position — while they were 
 so hotly pressed that they had no time nor opportunity 
 to erect even a temporary fortification w^herein they 
 might secure the rest they absolutely needed. This 
 was one of the most terrible of all the campaigns ; 
 officers and men suffered alike, and Ralph Farnham 
 bore his full share of the hardships and perils and de- 
 privations of that sad retreat of three weary weeks' 
 duration. Many individuals — utterly demoralized — 
 deserted during this period, and the wretched army 
 was greatly shorn of its numbers by this means, as 
 well as by sickness and death - but throughout all, 
 young Farnham marched, with a dauntless spirit, 
 hoping, as he says — " that as it is a long lane which 
 has no turning, better times would come by-and-by," 
 and encouraged by the recollection of Bunker Hill, 
 and subsequent engagements with the enemy, in the 
 early portion of his career. 
 
21 
 
 At Trenton they had a brief respite ; httt not for 
 long. The enemy, still victorious, pressed them closely, 
 hanging- upon their outskirts, but refusing a general 
 action, which Washington would have risked, even 
 with his far inferior force, rather than have been con- 
 tinvially subjected to this unceasing annoyance, until, 
 at length, they took up their winter quarters at Valley 
 Forge. Here the hardships that young Farnham en- 
 dured, in conimon. with all his comrades, defy descrip- 
 tion. They have been recorded in history, and it is suflBr 
 cient for us to say that the hero of our brief sketch was 
 present during that dreadful winter : — scantily clad, 
 barefooted, half starved, arid in constant expectation 
 of being attacked by the enemy ; it is almost miracu- 
 lous that any survived till spring, and affords the 
 strongest proof of their noble endurance and fortitude, 
 and of the persuasive powers of their distinguished 
 commander. 
 
 Subsequently, Ralph Farnham rejoined 'the New 
 Hampshire corps,, under Generals Starke and Gates, 
 and was marched to the vicinity of the Hudson, where 
 General Burgoyne, believing that Howe, with the 
 entire British army, was waiting foj* him at Albany, 
 beg^n a brisk movement northward. Finding himself 
 deceived in tliis, and, thereby, in something of a dilem- 
 ma, he commenced the destruction of several villages 
 and settlements on the banks of the river, hoping to- 
 induce Gates, who with his army was encamped near 
 Saratoga, to send detachments out to meet him, and 
 so weaken the force under his command. Gates, 
 however, wisely forbore to do this, satisfying himself 
 with preventing Burgoyne from opening a communi- 
 cation witla the northern army. 
 
22 
 
 Burg-oyne soon found himself in a crisis. The 
 Americans had strongly guarded all the posts in the 
 rear, and had destroyed the flotilla on Lake George ; 
 while in front he had an army, double his own in num- 
 ber, and in the sort of guerilla warfare, the nature of 
 the country compelled, certainly not less, perhaps 
 more efficient. Any further movement^ in any direction, 
 would, he foresaw, be followed by a series of harass- 
 ing attacks, which would destroy his army in detail, 
 and nothing was left for him but to surrender at dis- 
 cretion. Of all the events relating to Burgoyne's sur- 
 render, Mr. Ralph Farnham retains a vivid and distinct 
 recollection. It was the greatest triumph that he wit- 
 nessed during his career in the Revolutionary army, 
 and he is naturally fond of dwelling upon it. 
 
 He was on guard when a flag of truce approached, 
 from the British GeneraL A council was held, and 
 information was sent back to Burgoyne, that General 
 Gates demanded that the whole force should ground 
 arms, and surrender themselves as prisoners of war. 
 
 In due time the flag of truce returned, bringing 
 information, that General Burgoyne and his officers 
 had come to the determination to brave every extremity 
 rather than submit to such terms. 
 
 Many of the American officers would have insisted 
 upon pushing matters to the utmost, but Gates knew 
 the importance of time. He might, perhaps, have com- 
 pletely annihilated General Burgoyne's army, but in 
 the attempt, he would have left a passage free to the 
 British forces, to the northward, to march to the relief 
 of their comrades, and thus, after having destroyed 
 Burgoyne, have found himself in a similar position to 
 that of his foe. He therefore wisely modified his terms, 
 
23 
 
 and agreed, after some discussion, to grant the honors 
 of war, and a free passage to Britain, to Burgoyne, 
 his officers and men, on condition of their not serving 
 again in North America, during the present contest. 
 
 To these terms, Burgoyne gladly consented, and the 
 surrender took place. That the conditions were sub- 
 sequently violated, was no fault of Gates. Congress, 
 against the desire both of Washington and Gates, 
 sought a pretext for evading the contract to convey 
 the troops to Britain, being actuated, perhaps, more 
 by patriotic zeal, than by the nice honor of General 
 Gates, and they found what they sought, through the 
 unguarded expression of Burgoyne, who, complaining 
 of the subsequent treatment which his men experienced 
 in Boston, said, that he considered the convention as 
 thereby violated, whence Congress inferred, that, on 
 returning home, Burgoyne would represent his gov- 
 ernment absolved from the engagement against the 
 troops under his command, serving in America. The 
 convention was not fulfilled. 
 
 General Gates, however, was courteous- in the ex- 
 treme. Frequent civilities — which, in some degree, 
 ameliorate the horrors of war — took place between 
 the victorious American officers and the British, and 
 the men mingled freely together. " On one occasion," 
 says Mr. Farnham, " General Gates invited Burgoyne 
 and his officers to dine with him. During the repast 
 there was much mirth and laughter, and Gates, who 
 sat at the head of the table, perceiving some louder 
 laughter than usual going on near where Burgoyne 
 was seated, between two American officers, was curi- 
 ous to know the cause. ' General Burgoyne says that 
 you look more like an old woman than a general offi- 
 
24 
 
 cer,' explained one of the party. 'Do I ?' replied 
 Gates: ' well, perhaps I am an old woman. At all 
 events, I've safely delivered General Burgoyne often 
 thousand men.' The laughter was turned against 
 Burgoyne," said the old gentleman, who chuckled over 
 the story. " Gen. Burgoyne was no match for Gates, 
 either in joking or fighting." He appeared to enjoy 
 the anecdote greatly. We never recollect having 
 heard it before ; but pi'obably it was a favorite joke 
 with the young men in the camp at the time. Ralph 
 Farnham had served, from 1*1*75 to the close of 1717, 
 with the Revolutionary army — a period of near- 
 ly three years : he had done his part well, and he now 
 retired, and betook himself to the appropriate duties 
 of a private citizen, who could feel satisfied that he 
 had done his duty to his country. During this period 
 he had had frequent opportunities of studying the 
 characters of the leaders under whom he served, and 
 of learning how they were regarded by his fellow sol- 
 diers. The memory of Washington the old gentleman 
 holds in the highest veneration. He spoke frequently 
 of his constant care of the men under his command, of 
 his encouraging words, and his universal kindness, 
 though he never overlooked any gross dereliction from 
 duty. 
 
 "Ahl" said he, "Washington was a fine man. 
 There are no such men as Washington in these times!" 
 
 Of General Putnam, he remarked : 
 
 " Yes — old Putnam was rough and ready. He was 
 afraid of nothing. He looked like a farmer; but he 
 feared nothing, nor nobody." 
 
 Speaking of Gates, he said : 
 
 " General Gates was an easy-going man to look at ; 
 
25 
 
 but he was a good man, and a brave soldier. All the 
 men liked him." 
 
 Of these three he speaks more familiarly than of 
 any others ; and he knows little of the officers whose 
 services were chiefly confined to the southern section 
 of the country, to which he never was called. 
 
 The public will be more interested in the old man, 
 as he is now living at an age to which few men 
 attain in the course of a century. It is not to be 
 expected that anything new relating to the Revolu- 
 tion can be learnt at this period, and the chief interest 
 consists in listening to, and seeing one, who was him- 
 self an actor in these stirring scenes, which, to the 
 world at large, are matters of bygone history ; but, to 
 all that appertains to him in his present extreme old 
 age, there is an especial interest attached. Every- 
 body is anxious to know the mode of life of one whose 
 years would place him on record amongst the patriarchs 
 of old ; of one who had lived through an ordinary 
 human life before most of the present inhabitants of 
 this eai'th were born. 
 
 In l*r80, Mr. Ralph Farnham, being then in the 
 twenty-fifth year of his age, retired to the wilds bor- 
 dering on the States of New Hampshire and Maine, 
 and took possession of one hundred acres of land in the 
 latter-named State — in a township now known as Acton. 
 The country, at that period, was for miles around a 
 wilderness, covered with dense forests, which extend- 
 ed in every direction, as far as the eye could reach. He 
 had no immediate neighbors, though every person 
 who lived within ten miles was considered as a 
 neighbor, in that thinly-peopled and desolate district. 
 He had a brother who took possession of a poi'tion of 
 2 
 
26 
 
 land about two miles distant from him, and there 
 were other settlers scattered around, within a radius 
 of from five to ten miles. It seems strange to us, 
 used to live in cities or villages, or thickly-populated 
 districts, that any one could, from choice, or even 
 with the hope of gain, so completely isolate himself 
 from the busy world ; but the same spirit then actuated 
 the pioneers of the now populated and cultivated dis- 
 tricts of New England, as now actuates the bold, 
 hardy adventurers who leave civilization behind them, 
 and make a home in the wilderness of the Far West. 
 Were it not for such men as these, our broad land 
 would remain in a state of nature, and we should 
 throng the cities and the surrounding country until 
 actually driven to find a livelihood elsewhere, through 
 an excess of population. This spirit of adventure 
 would seem to be given by Providence for the special 
 object of subduing nature, and extending the limits of 
 cultivation and civilization in a broad, and as yet, 
 sparsely-populated country, such as ours. 
 
 Mr. Farnham's first movement was to build himself 
 a log cabin in the depths of the forest, and having thus 
 secured a place of shelter, he set boldly to work at 
 the arduous task before him, of felling the trees and 
 bringing a portion of his wild land under cultivation. 
 
 There is something grand, almost sublime, after 
 all, in the contemplation of such an existence. 
 
 Alone, far away from his fellow-men ! the wild and 
 savage denizens of the forest his sole companions, he 
 set forth, in the strength and pride of his manhood, to 
 do battle with nature, and to bring the desert under 
 cultivation. We of the cities can scarcely conceive 
 what must be the thoughts of a man so situated, 
 
21 
 
 when, his day's labor ended, he returned to his solitary 
 hut, and cooked and ate the simple food he had earned 
 by the sweat of his brow, in solitude and silence ; no 
 one to exchange a word wi^h. Solemn stillness around 
 him, save when the tempest rocked the mighty trees 
 to and fro, or when the thunder reverberated through 
 the forest, or when the sharp cry of some savage 
 beast, roaming the woods for food, broke on his ear 
 and aroused him from his slumbers, or from some 
 dreamy reverie. One would think that a human 
 being so situated would become wild as the beasts of 
 the forest themselves, and in time lose all recollection 
 of civilization, for even the Indian knows not such 
 solitude as this. He has his wigwam situated amongst 
 those of his tribe, and his wife and children and com- 
 panions to cheer his leisure hours. But it would appear 
 that there is a charm in such a life ; nor does it pre- 
 vent men, in after years, from mingling in society, and 
 being as sociable as their fellows. Yet to think of 
 sickness coming upon one thus placed ; to think of 
 dying alone, uncared for, unthought of, unknown ! 
 To the man used to society, the thought is horrible. 
 
 We have spoken of other settlers, but Ralph Farn- 
 ham was the first settler in this then drear, desolate 
 region. The ring of the woodman's axe, wielded by 
 his strong arm, first awoke the echoes of the dense 
 forest, which had, perhaps, slumbered since the crea- 
 tion, and startled the frightened wild beast from his 
 lair, and caused the timid birds to circle in the air and 
 scream forth their wonder and fear at the unwonted 
 sound. He felled the first trees that were cut down 
 in the section of the country where he has since 
 resided, and which is now covered with fertile farms 
 
28 
 
 and thriving villages. The forests were infested with 
 bears and catamounts, and other savage beasts, as 
 well as with deer of several varieties, and Mr. Farn- 
 ham frequently came into unwelcome collision with 
 these creatures while engaged at his labors, though 
 fortunately without ever having met with any serious 
 accident in consequence thereof. 
 
 On one occasion, while going thoughtlessly to his 
 daily labor, towards a distant part of the forest, he 
 was suddenly startled from his propriety by the appa- 
 rition of a huge bear, which suddenly descended from 
 a tree he was passing, and, raising itself on its hind 
 legs, stood gazing at him, as much as to say : " Pray 
 what are you doing here in my domain ?'i He had 
 nothing with him but his woodman's axe — a somewhat 
 contemptible weapon Avherewith to oppose a full-grown 
 bear. Still he would not have been greatly alarmed 
 had this been all ; but while he was considering how 
 to act, bruin number two descended the tree, speedily 
 followed by three half-grown cubs ! He had evidently 
 stumbled on a family party — papa, mamma, and their 
 joint offspring. Bears, the females especially, are 
 unusually savage when with their young, and Mr. 
 Farnham began to wish himself back again in his log- 
 hut. To retreat would have been to invite pursuit — 
 to commence aggression would have brought the 
 whole party upon him. He was nonplussed, and stood 
 awaiting their further action. Fortunately, after sur- 
 veying the intruder carefully, the whole family walked 
 slowly away. 
 
 "I let 'em go," quaintly observed the old gentle- 
 man, wlien relating the story ; " I was glad to get 
 rid of 'em. I guess the varmin 'ud a been too much 
 for me." We should imagine they would, truly. 
 
29 
 
 Sometimes, however, he encountered less formid- 
 able animals-— such as deer, which furnished him with 
 abundant food for a long time ; though it was by no 
 means desirable to encounter the larger species of deer, 
 such as the gigantic moose, unprepared with fire-arms. 
 One day, when armed, as usual when going to work, 
 with his axe, alone, he encountered the largest moose 
 deer he had ever seen. He dared not attack the ani- 
 mal, and, equally alarmed, the moose made off, but in 
 a short time its legs became entangled in the roots of 
 a fallen tree. Now was Mr. Farnham's opportunity. 
 He advanced and killed the creature with his axe, and 
 subsequently contrived to convey it home. It weighed 
 no less than 800 pounds. Such adventures as these 
 were by no means uncommon during the early period 
 of the old gentleman's settlement in the wilderness. 
 
 After awhile, people began to settle more thickly 
 around him. Men brought their wives and families, 
 and there was a little colony, still widely separated 
 from each other, by, often, miles of intermediate forest. 
 This, however, did not deter them from occasional 
 merry-makings and frolics, on which occasions they 
 assembled at some particular house previously desig- 
 nated, and danced, and sung, and enjoyed themselves. 
 
 " Not," said the old gentleman, with some appear- 
 ance of disgust at modern usages, " as young people 
 do now, but in a decent manner." 
 
 On one of these festive occasions, Mr. Farnham had 
 gone to the residence of a neighbor, some two miles 
 distant from his home, where a large party had assem- 
 bled, by invitation. Most people have heard of the 
 " dark day," as the period of a total eclipse of the sun 
 was subsequently termed by the country people far 
 
30 
 
 and near, vrho were frightened half out of their wits 
 by it. Total eclipses of the sun are exceedingly rare, 
 and were quite unknown and unheard of by the simple 
 inhabitants of the country, and, indeed, were at that 
 period regarded with alarm by many better educated 
 persons, who ought to haye had more sense. 
 
 About two o'clock in the afternoon, while the fun 
 was at its height— for these frolics closed at sun-down, 
 to admit of the visitors returning home throug'h the 
 forest before it got too dark — it became gloomy all of 
 a sudden, and a young woman went to look out at the 
 door, thinking it was going to rain, although but a 
 moment before not a cloud was to be seen in the sky. 
 Presently she returned in a state of affright, saying that 
 it was growing dark, though not a cloud was yisible. 
 
 The darkness came on apace. Consternation seized 
 the assembly ; the party broke up hurriedly, and some 
 hastened homewards. Among these latter was Ralph 
 Farnham ; but he had not gone far into the forest be- 
 fore it grew so dark that it was impossible to proceed 
 The birds had gone to roost, and all nature was silent 
 as the graye. He sat down on the trunk of a fallen 
 tree, and, as he says, awaited the sound of the Arch- 
 angel's trump, expecting to see the dead arise, and the 
 heavens unroll — for he thought the judgment day had 
 come. HoAv long he sat he does not know ; but it 
 grew somewhat lighter, and he found his way home in 
 safety ; but the night which followed, he says, was the 
 darkest he ever saw. It seemed, to use his own words, 
 " as if he could feel the darkness." 
 
 " Was it two o'clock, exactly, when it commenced ?" 
 we asked. 
 
 " Two o'clock, as near as we could judge, by the 
 
31 
 
 sun," was the reply ; " we had uo clocks nor watches 
 in those days. There wasn't a time-piece, perhaps, 
 within twenty miles." 
 
 " It was a total eclipse of the sun ? " we suggested. 
 
 " No, 'twas no eclipse," replied the old gentleman, 
 apparently somewhat annoyed at our lack of faith. " It 
 was total darkness, and no one, from that day to this, 
 has discovered the cause." 
 
 We doubt whether the old gentleman now knows 
 the nature of an eclipse ; but any attempt to prove a 
 natural cause for this phenomenon rouses his indigna- 
 tion. 
 
 It apparently had a good effect upon him, and prob- 
 ably upon others of the settlers ; for, shortly after, he 
 was led to entertain serious notions of religion, and 
 joined the Free-Will Baptist Church, of which congre- 
 gation he has since — a period of seventy-eight years — 
 been a conscientious, and, until latterly, an active 
 member. We have no doubt, from certain expres- 
 sions which fell from him, that even now he would be 
 nothing loth to enter into an argument upon church 
 doctrine. 
 
 Two years thus passed away, and Mr. Farnham 
 still lived the life of a hermit in his log-cabin ; but he 
 had cleared a considerable piece of ground for culti- 
 vation, and, growing weary of his solitude, he wooed 
 and won the heart and hand of the fair daughter of a 
 neighbor settler — one Mehitable Bean — whom he 
 brought to his forest home, to enliven it with the 
 thousand charms with which woman can embellish 
 the dreariest spot ; but it was no dreary spot to 
 which young Ralph Farnham carried his youthful 
 bride. His strong arm and determined will had per- 
 
32 
 
 formed wonders during- four years of solitary resi- 
 dence. " The desert had been made to smile, and 
 blossom like a rose ; " and corn and grain were plant- 
 ed where, but four years before, the soil Avas over" 
 shadowed with the trees of the forest. The log-cabin 
 was there still, but high up on the brow of the hill 
 the foundation was laid for the snug-, commodious, 
 though small and unpretending farm-house, which now 
 seems to invite the traveler to step aside from the 
 road, and rest beneath its roof 
 
 Seven children were the fruits of this union, viz. : 
 Benjamin, who died in 1848, aged sixty-three, and 
 who, had he lived, would now have been seventy-five 
 years old. Anna, aged seventy-two, still living, and 
 earning her livelihood as a tailoress at Acton village. 
 Mary, who died aged sixty-seven ; Johanna, aged 
 sixty-five, now employed as a domestic at the Ameri- 
 can House, in Hanover-street, Boston ; John, aged 
 sixty-three, a farmer at Acton ; Daniel, who died late- 
 ly, aged sixty-one ; and Ealph, the youngest son, 
 aged fifty-nine, a farmer, resident at Fairfield, Kenne- 
 bec county. Mrs. Mehitable Farnham, who died in 
 1842, aged seventy-seven, was nine years younger 
 than her husband, who has already survived her 
 eighteen years. It is only within the past few months 
 that it has been generally known that an old soldier 
 of the earlier portion of the Eevolution was still living, 
 and in the enjoyment (considering his extreme old age) 
 of excellent health and spirits ; and the manner in 
 which it became known is somewhat singular. 
 
 While delivering his oration at Faneuil Hall, Bos- 
 ton, on the Fourth of July last, the Hon. Edward Everett 
 casually remarked that, to the best of his belief, not a 
 
33 
 
 single individual was living who was engaged at the' 
 battle of Bunker Hill, or who took part in the early 
 struggles of the Revolutionary period. 
 
 The eloquent orator had reason on his side. It is 
 not probable that any 3'outh under the age of fifteen 
 took part in those early struggles, and a youth of 
 fifteen, who was in the battle of Bunker Hill, would 
 now be one hundred years of age. How few men or 
 women are there in the United States who have 
 attained to that great age ! How comparatively few 
 in the whole world! 
 
 The Hon. Mr. Everett's spee(Ji was, as a matter of 
 course, read by tens of thousands, far and near, and 
 the residents of the section of the country in which 
 Mr. Ralph Farnham has resided for so many years — 
 for thirty-five years beyond the ordinary span of life 
 allotted to man, since the deluge! — who had hitherto 
 kept " Old Uncle Farnham," as the old gentleman is 
 familiarly and affectionately termed, to themselves, 
 resolved to make it known that they still cherished 
 amongst them an aged man who had actually attained 
 to manhood at the period when the Revolutionary 
 struggle commenced. 
 
 On the seventh of July last, the residents of Acton, 
 and of the surrounding country and villages, assembled 
 at Milton Mills, N. H., distant four miles from Mr. Farn- 
 ham's residence, to celebrate the old gentleman's one 
 hundred and fourth birthday — he having on that day 
 completed the hundred and fourth year of his life. 
 
 One hundred and four guns were fired ; a dinner was 
 
 given, at which Ralph Farnham was assigned the 
 
 post of honor ; speeches were made, toasts drunk, 
 
 together with various other suitable demonstrations in 
 
 2* 
 
34 
 
 honor of the venerable old man, and the whole affair 
 passed oflT in a manner creditable alike to the origina- 
 tors of the celebration, the people who attended, and 
 the venerable guest who honored it with his presence, 
 and who sat, like a patriarch of olden times, sur- 
 rounded by gray-headed men whom he had known as 
 infants when he was a man grown — by men of middle 
 age, who, in their childhood, had known him as " Old 
 Uncle Farnham," and by stalwart youths, who had 
 entered upon existence j^ears after he had passed the 
 allotted term of three score years and ten ! It was a 
 simple, but a touching ;ind appBopriate demonstration, 
 and it was freely commented upon by the press. 
 People read, and wondered when they heard that there 
 was still in existence one of that generation which, 
 it was thought, had passed away forever ; and Uncle 
 Ralph Farnham, like some other men who have been 
 far less worthy, awoke one morning and found him- 
 self famous. 
 
 Since that period, a great number of persons, curi- 
 ous to see and speak with a venerable relic of that 
 period which will ever be the most memorable 
 in the history of the United States, have called 
 to visit the old gentleman ; and scarcely a day 
 has passed on which letters have not been received 
 from persons desirous of possessing his autograph, 
 or of having made clear some doubtful genealogical 
 point, or of proving some relationship to the family 
 by marriage or by offshoot from the direct line ; and 
 among the letters have been several from persons 
 bearing the same family name, residents of the South- 
 ern section of the Union. To reply to these letters 
 would be quite impossible on the part of the old gen- 
 
35 
 
 tlcman. Indeed, the task would require the constant 
 labor of an industrious amanuensis ; but we pre- 
 sume that each individual who writes believes him- 
 self to be the only one interested. 
 
 With regard to visitors, the old gentleman appears 
 glad to see them, and gratified with the attention and 
 respect shown him ; and, as it is a laudable curiosity 
 which prompts persons to visit and exchange greet- 
 ings with one whose birth took place years before the 
 United States took their position amongst the inde- 
 pendent nations of the earth — with one who witnessed 
 the throes of our country's birth, and took part in its 
 baptism in the noblest blood of its sons — we may be 
 doing a service to the traveler or tourist whose busi- 
 ness or pleasure may lead him to that section of the 
 country in which Ealph Farnham resides, by indi- 
 cating the nearest route to Acton. 
 
 Traveling over the Boston and Maine Railroad, 
 northward, you will quit the main line at the Great 
 Falls Junction, a few miles northward of Portsmouth, 
 N. H., and, taking a seat in the cars of the branch 
 road, you proceed to the terminus at Union Village, 
 N. H., where a conveyance to Acton, via Milton Mills, 
 may readily be procured. The distance from Union 
 Village is six miles, over an excellent road, slightly on 
 the ascent the entire distance, and through some very 
 delightful scenery. At this season of the year (Sep- 
 tember), the orchards, which line the road on both sides, 
 are loaded with fruit — the grateful perfume of which 
 fills the air. In fact, so numerous are the apple-trees, 
 that in some places they grow in the open road, ap- 
 parently without an owner. 
 
 The farm-house, a small, neat, unpretending wooden 
 
36 
 
 building, stands off the road, a considerable distance 
 from Acton village, on a beautiful and fertile ridge, 
 commanding an extensive view of the surrounding 
 country, and on a clear day the snow-capped summits of 
 the White Mountains of New Hampshire are distinctly 
 visible. The air on this elevated plateau is exceed- 
 ingly pure, and must be healthful and favorable to 
 longevity — for though Ealph Farnham is the patriarch 
 of that section of the country, it surprises the visitors 
 to see the many aged and healthy persons of both 
 sexes he meets with during the drive. 
 
 In the farm-house we have mentioned resides Uncle 
 Ralph Farnham, with his second son, Mr. John Farn- 
 ham — the wife of the latter, and their two sons, who 
 have, for several years past, taken charge of the farm. 
 
 The house, as we have already mentioned, stands 
 just above the site of the log-cabin (now no more), in 
 which Mr. Ralph Farnham resided alone in his bache- 
 lor days, while he was engaged in felling the forest 
 trees surrounding his hermit-like abode. What a won- 
 derful change he has lived to witness ! Now, as far as 
 the eye can reach, the view extends over a beautiful 
 champagne country, covered with fertile farms, and 
 thrifty apple-orchards, and smiling villages, and busy 
 manufactories — there being an abundance of water- 
 power for the last named — while a constantly-increas- 
 ing, active, healthful population has grown up, where, 
 eighty years ago, the dark, apparently interminable 
 forest stretched for miles in every direction — where 
 the shaggy bear and savage Avild cat had their solitary 
 lairs, and roamed lords of the wilderness — where 
 herds of deer and other animals of that species had 
 their home — where the foot of civilized man had never 
 penetrated ! 
 
3t 
 
 Here, in the quiet seclusion of the country, Ralph 
 Farnham has passed a long, active, useful, yet unam- 
 bitious life, scarcely cognizant — perhaps unheeding- 
 all that was going forward in the busy world. Yet, 
 what wonderful changes have occurred — what strange 
 events have happened since the day of his birth ! 
 When he was born, George 11. — whose s>l'eat-great- 
 granddaughtcr, Victoria, now occupies the British 
 throne — was king of England and of the United 
 Colonies of America, and though George III. reigned 
 sixty years, five British sovereigns have ascended the 
 throne during his life. During the year of his birth, 
 Canada passed from the hands of the French into the 
 possession of England, and the colonists, who, eighteen 
 years later, were engaged in a deadly struggle with 
 the mother country, were then fighting side by side 
 with British soldiers against the French. In France, 
 at the period of his birth, Louis XV. swayed the 
 sceptre of the Bourbons — now exiled and scattered, 
 probably never again to recover their lost power. He 
 was a man of nearly forty years old, when the star of 
 Bonaparte arose. During his life, continental Europe 
 has been overrun by French victors ; France has, in 
 its turn, been humbled, the conquering Bonaparte has 
 died in exile on the rock of St. Helena, and yet again 
 a Bonaparte has ascended to the Imperial throne of 
 France. The map of Europe has so changed during 
 his life, that a map published at the period of his birth 
 would be entirely useless. The immense island-conti- 
 nent of Australia and the numerous island groups of 
 Polynesia were at his birth unknown countries, as 
 was also a considerable portion of Africa, now settled 
 by Europeans. Since his birth, an immense empire, 
 
38 
 
 containing- one hundred millions of inhabitants, has 
 arisen in Asia, and the thirteen colonies, in whose en- 
 franchisement he took a humble part, have increased 
 to thirty-two sovereign states, containing' a popula- 
 tion as numerous as that of Great Britain, and greater 
 than any other European State, with the exception of 
 France and Austria ; while the United States, which, 
 when he settled on his farm, had just merged into 
 independence, and, poverty-stricken and staggering 
 beneath the weight of the struggle, were almost 
 doubtful if their independence could be maintained, 
 have risen to be equal to any State in the Old World, 
 and have made themselves honored and respected by 
 the most haughty, wealthy, and powerful nations of the 
 earth. Great names in literature and arts and arms have 
 arisen and passed away to immortality during his 
 day. When he was a young man, the sententious 
 and sage Dr. Johnson was in the heyday of his fame ; 
 since then Burns and Byron have been born, have flour- 
 ished and died. Scores, nay hundreds of men, whose 
 memory is venerated by the whole civilized world,.have 
 lived and died during his long pilgrimage, and are 
 now of the past. For years after he was grown to 
 manhood America had no literature — was famed for 
 no discoveries nor inventions ; a young people strug- 
 gling into existence, her children were compelled to 
 look to more material things in order to maintain 
 themselves ; yet how many Americans since then 
 have risen to fame in almost every department of 
 literature and science ? How many of these have 
 passed away at a venerable old age ? 
 
 But little of this has been known to the humble, 
 simple farmer of New England. He has had to do 
 
39 
 
 battle with the soil for subsistence, and he has had 
 his reward in witnessing-, as we have remarked, as 
 wonderful changes, in his secluded existence, as the 
 busy outside world has seen ; and, in the position in 
 which it has pleased Providence to place him, has not 
 his life been as usefully and as worthily passed as 
 that of the greatest among his fellow-mortals ? 
 
 But little was known, or, perhaps, cared for, of 
 what now-a-days are considered as necessaries of life, 
 by the hardy settlers in the wilderness in the early 
 portion of their career. Their food was simple, and 
 chiefly raised by themselves ; their clothing was warm 
 and comfortable, but it owed little to the tailor's skill ; 
 the furniture of their houses was scant and plain — 
 carpets and sofas, watches and clocks, a thousand 
 things that the poorest mechanic now deems essential 
 to his household were unknown or uncaredfor by them. 
 Yet, they had all they needed, for their wants were 
 few as their means were scant. The old gentleman 
 informed us that the only material they used for writing 
 upon was the bark of trees — peeled, smoothed and 
 dried — their ink they manufactured for themselves — of 
 paper they had none, and, perhaps, they little needed it. 
 
 Things have greatly changed with them since then ! 
 The railroad has proved a wonderful leveler, and 
 the country beau and the village, belle are now as 
 gay in their holiday attire as their youthful city 
 cousins, while the cottage of a New England farmer 
 often boasts of as snugly-furnished apartments as the 
 most thi-ifty housewife can desire. Still, withal, there 
 is an honest rusticity observable amongst them, which 
 'twere pity they should ever shake off, for it is refresh- 
 ing to witness, after a long residence amidst the con- 
 
40 
 
 ventionalisms of city life, and of all the men on earth 
 the New England farmer is the most independent, and 
 should be the happiest. 
 
 All honor to Ralph Farnham, and such as he, who 
 braved the solitude and perils of the wilderness and 
 forest to become the pioneers of New England's now 
 fertile soil ! 
 
 Mr. Ralph Farnham is, as we have observed, always 
 happy to receive those who pay him a visit. The old 
 gentleman enters freely into conversation, and replies 
 readily to all questions put to him. It is very pleas- 
 ing to converse Avith the venerable old man, and listen 
 to the various events of his (save in his earlier days) 
 unchequered life. 
 
 From our conversations with him, we have gleaned 
 the matter of this brief memoir. There is little start- 
 ling in his history ; the pleasure one feels is derived 
 from conversing with so old a man — with one who 
 was an actor amid scenes which, to the present gene- 
 ration, are subjects of history. 
 
 One peculiarity we noticed especially — it is that of 
 abruptly inquiring the age of all who visit him. He 
 suddenly raises his head, as if awakening from some 
 thoughtful reverie, and asks : 
 
 "What age do you call yourself, sir?" Any age 
 below fifty he considers as that of mere boyhood. 
 
 It is impossible, in print, to describe the peculiar 
 quaintness of these interrogatories 
 
 The gentleman who drove us to his door was a Mr. 
 Lock, of Salmon Falls, N. H. He was introduced to 
 the old gentleman. 
 
 "Mr. Lock," he replied in a loud tone of voice ; 
 " Mr. Lock, pray, sir, did not your father keep the 
 prison at Dover, New Hampshire ?" 
 
41 
 
 " He did," replied Mr. L. 
 
 " Ah I" continued the old man, "I recollect him well. 
 He was fond of arguing' on points of doctrine. I've 
 often argued with him. He was a good man. How 
 long ago was that since he lived at Dover ?" 
 
 " It must be fifty years I" replied Mr. L. " My fa- 
 ther has been many years dead, and he moved from 
 Dover several years before his death." 
 
 " Ah ! fifty years," replied the old gentleman, mu- 
 singly; then, looking up sharply, he added— 
 
 " And pray what age may you call yourself, sir?" 
 
 The reader will recollect that Mr. Farnham had 
 never seen Mr. Lock, junior, in his life, that either he 
 or Mr. L. was aware of, and that fifty years before, 
 at least, he recollected holding an argument relative 
 to some point of church doctrine with Mr. L.'s father! 
 
 It was a most astonishing proof of retention of mem- 
 ory. To look at the old gentleman, though his face is 
 much furrowed, and he stoops considerably, no one 
 would imagine him to be the great age he actually is. 
 We have rarely seen men of fourscore so hale and 
 hearty, and so free from infirmity or decrepitude. He is 
 a man of middle height, broad-shouldered, and some- 
 what stoutly built, and in youth and middle age — 
 probably to old age^-for he has passed that term — he 
 must have been a strong, athletic man. It is scarce- 
 ly possible to judge of the features of a man so aged, 
 but we should imagine him to have been a good-look- 
 ing man in early life. His white hair — of which, for 
 an old man, he has great abundance — imparts to his 
 countenance an extremely venerable and patriarchal 
 appearance. 
 
 The old gentleman boasts of having voted for 
 
42 
 
 Washington as first President of the United States, 
 and for every President that has since occupied the 
 White House, at Washington. He expects to vote 
 for the next President, and, for our part, we should 
 not be surprised if he lived to vote for two or three 
 Presidents yet to come. On the 10th of September of 
 the present year (1860), he was carried in a wagon a 
 distance of seven miles, to vote for the Governor of 
 Maine. The old man takes much interest in politics, 
 but he is so wary that it is almost impossible to dis- 
 cover his political predilections. 
 
 Throughout life his habits have been extremely 
 regular, and to this, perhaps, united with a strong 
 constitution, and the healthful life he has lived from 
 boyhood, he may be indebted for his extraordinary 
 longevity. He is, and always has been, remarkably 
 temperate ; but he smokes a great deal. This should 
 be a consolation to the lovefs of the narcotic " weed" 
 — since in Mr. Farnham's case, at all events, the stimu- 
 lus of tobacco has not been productive of mischief 
 — unless, as an Irishman is reported to have said — 
 " If he has lived to his one hundred and fifth year and 
 been an habitual smoker, who knows how old he 
 would have been if he hadn't smoked ?" 
 
 The old gentleman couldn't do without his pipe, 
 now, for any consideration. 
 
 For several years past, he has retired regularly at 
 T p. M., and risen at 5 a. m. On rising, and when about 
 to retire, he always engages aloud in prayer, in his 
 own room. "This has been his practice," says his son, 
 " ever since he was a boy." 
 
 His prayer is almost always to this effect : — 
 
 "Our Father, who art in Heaven, hallowed be Thy 
 
name. ! Lord God, look down upon Thine unworthy 
 servant. Pardon my sins ; g'ive me a clean heart, and 
 a right spirit, and render mc worthy of acceptance 
 ■with Thee : through Thy blessed Son, Jesus Christ. 
 Thou, who holdest the earth in the hollow of Thine 
 hand, have mercy upon me, and upon all men. Bless 
 and prosper Thy Church. Teach all mankind to walk 
 and live according to Thy law. Strengthen the weak- 
 hearted ; uphold those who are likely to fall, and 
 encourage the faltering. I thank Thee for the many 
 mercies of my past life ; for the care Thou hast over 
 me, day by day ; for the provision Thou hast afford- 
 ed me ; for all the blessings and mercies of this life, 
 and for the hope Thou hast given us, through Christ, 
 of eternal happiness in the world to come, when Thou 
 wilt receive those who have proved acceptable in Thy 
 sight, and seat them at Thy right hand, to be with 
 Thee for evermore. 
 
 " Bless my family, and all for whom I ought, and 
 desire to pray ; grant us such prosperity as is needful 
 for us, and teach us to submit ourselves to Thy will, 
 and to say in all things; Tliy ivill he clone. Do this, 
 Lord, for the sake of our blessed Saviour, Jesus Christ, 
 to Whom, with Thee and the Holy Ghost, be all honor 
 and gloiy, now and evermore, world without end. 
 Amen !" The above is a specimen of the good old 
 man's simple, heartfelt prayer. 
 
 He eats with as good an appetite as any one of the 
 family. His breakfast consists generally of roasted 
 potatoes, bread-and-butter, and pie, with tea ; he eats 
 meat at dinner ; at supper, the same as in the morn- 
 ing. He walks firmly, though his form is somewhat 
 bent, and on no occasion lies down or sleeps in the 
 
44 
 
 day timo. After retiring, he sleeps soundly through- 
 out the whole night. 
 
 He is very cheerful in spirits, and even in temper ; 
 fond of an old joke, or of telling an old and favorite 
 story, over which he chuckles till the tears run down 
 his cheeks ; yet he is a man of firm religious princi- 
 ple, and not averse, we should conceive, even now, to 
 enter into an argument upon points of religious doc- 
 trine or church government. He passes a good deal 
 of time in reading his Bible, with the assistance of a 
 pair of old-fashioned, iron-rimmed spectacles, with 
 glasses as large round as half-a-dollar. These specta- 
 cles are an heir-loom, and belonged to, and were used 
 by his mother. They are, he says, at least one hun- 
 dred and sixty years old. Perhaps it would be dilfi- 
 cult to find a pair of glasses to suit the sight of so aged 
 a man ; but be possible to do so, it would be an act 
 of kindness, which we are confident the old gentleman 
 would appreciate, if some generous individual were to 
 present him with a pair of more modern spectacles. 
 
 When weary of reading, he rises and walks out, 
 after having lighted his pipe, and strolls around in 
 the vicinity of the house, sometimes going as far as 
 the gate, and exchanging greetings with the casual 
 passers by, to nearly all of whom he has been known 
 since their childhood, and all have a kindly word and 
 a cheerful smile for the patriarchal old man. During 
 the day he gathers kindling-wood for his fire — insist- 
 ing, both winter and summer, on bringing in his own 
 wood and lighting his fire in his own room ; indeed, 
 he is not by any means pleased if any one offers to 
 perform this task for him. 
 
 He engages in no active labor, nor has he so done 
 
45 
 
 for years— though, in his hundredth year, he mowed 
 a considerable piece of grass, in front of the house, 
 and, about two years ago, set to work of his own 
 accoi'd to weed a potato patch ; but his son was 
 obliged to beg him to desist from this latter employ- 
 ment, as the old gentleman, whose sight was dim, was 
 pulling up as many potatoe shoots as weeds. He did 
 not appear pleased when informed of his blunder ; but 
 probably he took it as a signification that it was time 
 for him to cease from outdoor labor, as he has never 
 since engaged in it. 
 
 With the exception of this dimness of sight — which 
 in no way interferes with his reading, with spectacles — 
 and a slight deafness — not sufficient to render conver- 
 sation with him in the slightest degree irksome — he 
 retains the use of his faculties in marvelous perfec- 
 tion. We have one matter more to speak of, and we 
 will bring our brief memoir to a close. It is an adage, 
 old as the republican days of ancient Rome, that " Re- 
 publics are ungrateful." There is reason in it and for 
 it. When the people, or those whom they have elected 
 as their direct representatives, have charge of the 
 public purse, they are naturally chary of their money, 
 and not apt to give such enormous pensions as are 
 given to superannuated or meritorious public servants 
 as the ministers of monarchical governments are apt 
 to do — they having fewer checks upon their disburse- 
 ment of the public treasure. 
 
 In monarchical governments, the system of pension- 
 ing often becomes a gross robbery of the people's 
 money. Favorite generals, and admirals, and states- 
 men, who deserve well of their country, are often 
 rewarded with grants and pensions out of all reason, 
 
as regards their amount, and pensions arc too often 
 granted to those who possess not the shadow of a 
 cLaim to any such public benefaction, until the pension 
 list grows to be a burdensome tax upon the working 
 classes, who are compelled to labor hard to make both 
 ends meet, while they are supporting unworthy per- 
 sons in idleness and luxury, 
 
 A republican government is liable to run to the 
 opposite extreme. The theory is (and to a certain 
 extent it is a perfectlj^ just one), that men are eager 
 to obtain government employment because the remu- 
 neration is generally higher for the amount and na- 
 ture of the labor exacted, than employment of any 
 other description, and the pay is sure. Public servants, 
 therefore, it is thought, ought to provide for old age 
 out of their earnings while in employment, as other 
 persons are expected to do^ since they do but their 
 duty in serving their country to the best of their 
 ability, /or ^ay, as others do who serve a private em- 
 ployer /or 2^(^y- Except in peculiar cases, they have 
 no claims upon the people. The republican theory is 
 correct, and hence public men raise the cry, " Repub- 
 lics are ungrateful !" 
 
 We are far from advocating a too-liberal pension 
 system ; but, if any one has a claim upon the public, 
 it is assuredly those aged men who yet remain among 
 us, and whose span of existence must, in the course 
 of nature, be snapped asunder in a few years, at the 
 utmost — who freely and voluntarily shed their blood 
 and exposed their lives at that period when the liber- 
 ties of our country were threatened, and who helped 
 to secure to us the freedom and independence we now 
 enjoy. The few who are living are generally poor 
 
47 
 
 men — all are men in advanced years ; and the people 
 would neither feel nor complain of a liberal pension 
 being granted to these aged men during the brief 
 remainder of their lives. 
 
 The sum of ninety-six dollars per year, a poor pit- 
 tance, quite insuiBcient for a man's maintenance, is 
 the amount generally received from the national trea- 
 sury by these veterans of the Revolution. It ought to 
 be twice that amount. But by some strange error — 
 we must presume — or by some neglect, through ignor- 
 ance on the part of the recipient, Mr. Ralph Farnham, 
 the sole survivor of the Battle of Bunker Hill — the 
 only man living ivho took part in the earliest struggles 
 of that terrible and sanguinary epoch in our country''s 
 history, has received, and continues to receive, only $61.66 
 per annum, $4 of which p)0.ltry pittance he has to pay to 
 a lawyer in Portland in order to obtain the rest I He is 
 in poor, if not actually indigent, circumstances. His 
 farm of one hundred acres of hilly, rocky land, though 
 fair to look at, and carefully cultivated, is insufficient 
 for more than the bare maintenance of himself, his 
 son and daughter-in-law, and his grandsons. Why 
 does he not receive at least the usual pension of $96.00 ? 
 We feel satisfied that it is only necessary to draw the 
 attention of the proper authorities to this subject to 
 have it promptly rectified. Surely every American 
 would desire that the most aged of the gallant heroes 
 of the Revolution should spend the last few years of 
 his life, and pass away to his rest, in the enjoyment of 
 every comfort it is in the power of money to bestow ? 
 
 Here we close our brief and necessarily imperfect 
 memoir of Mr. Ralph Farnham. As we have said, all 
 that we have penned we have gleaned from the old 
 
/^Ir-y 
 
 48 ^U.-<...*4-C-v 
 
 f ; 
 gentleman in the course of irregular conversation. He 
 is too aged, even if he were in a position to do so, to 
 render a full and perfect history of his career ; nor do 
 we believe it would prove of greater interest to the 
 public than will the desultory remarks and the brief 
 history recorded in these few pages. 
 
 We claim no credit for our task, nor do we expect 
 any. The object is to benefit the venerable old man, 
 and by the sale of the work, the daguerreotypes and 
 autographs to raise a little fund which may serve to 
 lighten the cares of his declining years, and pro- 
 cure for him such comforts and indulgences as we 
 should all like a relation or friend of our own, who had 
 reached his advanced period of life, to enjoy. When he 
 quits this life — we hope and trust to enter upon a 
 brighter and an eternal existence — the last link of the 
 chain will be severed that connects the generation now 
 living with that which witnessed the dawn of our nation- 
 al existence, and the period of our earliest Revolution- 
 ary struggle will be indeed one of bygone history. 
 
 P. S. — We call attention to the autograph of Mr. 
 Farnham. It is written in a coarse, rude hand. It is not 
 to be expected that a man like him can have paid much 
 attention to penmanship in his early days ; but it is 
 bold and freely written for so aged a man, and almost 
 wholly free from that tremulousness which generally 
 characterizes the handwriting of very aged persons. 
 
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